


Le Tigre

by Python07



Series: Drunk Jean and Kittens [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, drunk jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 04:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: Young Jean and Armand -- Drunk Jean is back with another kitten.





	Le Tigre

Jean sat hunched down in his corner. He swirled his wine in his cup. He stared down into it, wishing he could stop thinking about it all. He wished he could stop remembering.

_Blood covered the young musketeer’s chest. It stained his chin. He trembled in Jean’s arms. His once lustrous hair was matted with sweat and blood. His skin was pale and clammy and his eyes were wide and fearful. “Please.” He let out a pained breath. “I’m afraid.”_

_Jean held on tightly. He held the man’s gaze. “Just hold on, Arnaud. Keep breathing.”_

Jean squeezed his eyes shut. He had a white knuckle grip on his cup. He let out a shuddering breath.

_Arnaud clutched Jean’s arm. “My family,” he whimpered._

_“They will be taken care of,” Jean whispered vehemently. “You have my word.”_

Jean would never forget the first time a fellow musketeer died in his arms. He would never forget that last wheezing breath or the way the body went limp. He’d closed Arnaud’s eyes and removed his crucifix for his widow.

_“Treville,” Belgard started complaining. He smoothly lifted an orange from a cart as they passed. “Is this really necessary?”_

_Jean led the way through the crowded streets of one of the poorer neighborhoods in Paris. It was market day and the food in the stalls was only half rotten. It was hot and all of the combined smells was enough to make his eyes water. He didn‘t bother looking at Belgard. “Shut it,” he barked._

Jean downed his wine and swiftly refilled his cup. He noticed the tiger stripped kitten watching him from where it was sitting on the table. He scowled. “What?”

_“But--” De Foix tried._

_“No,” Jean interrupted._

The kitten simply tilted its head to the side and continued to watch Jean. He grumbled under his breath. He scowled some more.

_The door was within sight. Treville took his hat off and dropped a large pouch of coins into it. He held it out to Belgard and De Foix. He shook it impatiently. “I already got everyone else at the garrison.”_

_De Foix produced his own pouch. He weighed it for a moment, laughed, and dropped it in. “At least it’s for a good cause.”_

Jean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He clumsily reached out to stroke behind its ears. “Is this what you want, you pesky thing?”

_Belgard dropped a few coins into the hat. “Oh, please,” he growled. “I told that idiot to stay down. Instead, he stood up and made himself a target. Now, we’re supposed to support his wife and brat.”_

_De Foix smacked Belgard on the back of the head. “They have no one now that Arnaud is gone. This is the least we can do.”_

The kitten playfully swiped at Jean’s hand. It nipped one of Jean’s fingers. He grumbled and barely refrained from picking it up by the scruff of the neck and shaking it.

_“I suppose,” Belgard grudgingly allowed._

_Jean took a deep breath. He stood up straight and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, a blonde young woman opened it and greeted them with a smile. A three year old girl with her mother’s blonde hair and Arnaud’s dark eyes clung to her skirts._

“You are a little tiger, aren’t you?” Jean groused. He rolled his eyes. “That’s all I need, another devil cat.”

_Her face fell when Jean held up the crucifix for her to see. She covered her mouth on a gasp. Her eyes watered._

_Jean gently took her hand. He put the crucifix in her palm and closed her fingers over it. He let his hand cover hers for a long moment. “He died doing his duty. He thought of you at the end.”_

Jean downed half his cup. He was at the point where he could barely taste the wine, but it was warm in his throat and his stomach. The kitten continued watching Jean in fascination and expectation. “Stop looking at me,” he slurred at it.

_De Foix took the collected money from Jean’s hat. He took her other hand and gave it to her. “We know this is a small recompense,” he said solemnly, “but we hope this will help you.”_

_Belgard crouched down in front of the little girl. He gave a small smile and held out a wrapped square of chocolate and the pilfered orange. “Go ahead, little one.”_

Jean swiftly downed the rest of his cup. He refilled it. “I thought I told you to stop looking at me.”

_The child glanced up at her mother, who wasn’t paying attention, and then snatched the treats. “Thank you,” she whispered shyly._

_Belgard grinned back. “You’re welcome.”_

Jean shifted in his seat. He took another drink. The kitten was still there, staring at him for no good reason. “Go chase a mouse or something.”

_Jean squeezed her hand. “Is there anything we can do for you?”_

_She blinked and slowly pulled her hand away. “No.” She looked at all three of them. Her voice shook. “Thank you for the money. It will help.” She nudged her daughter back inside. She turned to follow. “Thank you for coming to tell of me Arnaud personally, but now I must ask you to go.”_

“I see you have another furry friend,” a voice said in amusement.

Jean blinked and looked up at Marie standing next to his table. He vaguely waved in the kitten’s direction. “I seem to attract them, don’t I?”

_“What are we doing back here?” Belgard whined._

_“Yeah, I got the impression that Arnaud’s widow didn’t want us around,” De Foix added._

Marie put a fresh bottle on the table. “I thought you might be almost empty.” She tentatively reached a hand out to the kitten. “May I?”

Jean emptied the last of the old bottle into his cup. He bared his teeth at the kitten. “Proceed at your own risk.”

_“We just delivered some awful news. Does that surprise you?” Jean asked as he knocked on the door._

_“They’re gone,” a neighbor called from a window across the street._

Marie laughed. “I’m not afraid.” He stroked the kitten under the chin. “Where are your friends?”

Jean couldn’t help his scowl. The kitten had the audacity to purr for her. What was it with these damn furballs? Yeah, Madeira was sweet. Most of the others he knew were assholes.

_Jean turned to look up at the nosy neighbor. “Gone where?”_

_“Her family owns a vineyard somewhere in Provence.”_

Jean sprawled back in his seat. He tipped his head back to drain his cup. “They went to their favorite brothel,” he drawled.

Marie laughed. “And you’re rather drown your sorrows in a bottle than in a woman.”

_“I just wish they would’ve taken that blasted cat with them,” the neighbor continued irately. “They abandoned it and the thing cries all night.”_

_De Foix and Belgard exchanged a quick look before they started backing away. De Foix snickered. “Do what you have to do and save it, Jean.”_

_“But we have better things to do,” Belgard added._

Jean could actually think of someone better than the bottle or a woman. He dropped a few coins on the table. He planted his hands and pushed himself to his feet. He sighed in pained acceptance and gently grabbed the kitten. He put it inside his shirt.

Marie was still grinning. “Is that for your secret lover?”

“So what if it is,” Jean shot back. He grabbed the fresh bottle and staggered out into the night.

Jean may have been drunk but the path was familiar and there wasn’t any rain to disorient him. He was weary by the time he made it to Armand’s rooms. He sagged against the doorframe and pounded on the door. “Armand!”

Armand opened the door a few seconds later. He grabbed Jean’s arm and pulled him inside. “Why must the whole building know you’re here?” he hissed in exasperation.

Jean stared down at Armand’s bare feet. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Armand was dressed for bed, but he was still wide awake. There were candles burning and an open book on the stand by his bed. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It’s all right. People in this neighborhood deliberately don’t pay attention to each other’s business.”

Little Shit and Madeira looked up from where they were entwined on the pillow by the fire. He sniffed disdainfully while she carefully disentangled herself from him. She rose to her feet and stretched.

Jean kept his head down. “You really need to get a better neighborhood.”

Armand stepped closer and touched Jean’s elbow. “What is it?” he asked in quiet concern.

Madeira circled around Jean’s legs. She rubbed against him.

“Bad day,” Jean whispered hoarsely. “Bad memories.”

Armand took the bottle from Jean’s suddenly limp fingers and set it aside. Then he tilted Jean’s head up. He cupped Jean’s face and kissed him softly.

Jean groaned and opened up to the kiss. He threw his arms around Armand. He pressed closer.

Madeira circled around them. She sat behind Jean. She looked up at him, waiting patiently.

Armand felt the movement in Jean’s shirt. He pulled away just enough to see Jean’s face. “Again?”

Jean blushed and smiled sheepishly. “The poor thing was abandoned. I just couldn’t leave it.”

Armand ran a hand through his hair. He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “All right. Let’s see it.”

Jean gingerly brought the striped kitten into the light. “I can’t say I blame the widow for leaving it behind,” he rambled. He cradled it against his chest. “Another mouth to feed and trying to keep track of it on the way to Provence.”

Armand stroked its head. “Arnaud’s family left it behind.”

Jean nodded. He pushed it into Armand’s hands and then half turned to look down at Madeira. He crouched down to pet her. “You’re okay with this right, my lady?”

Madeira purred and pushed into Jean’s hand. He picked her up. “All you have to do is tell me and I’ll find a different home for it.”

Armand chuckled as the new kitten rubbed its head under his chin. “Oh, you don’t care if I actually want another cat. You only care if you make your lady unhappy.”

Jean laughed. It was subdued, but it was genuine. He kissed her head and put her back down. “She’s the only lady for me.”

Little Shit finally got up to investigate what was going on. He circled Armand and meowed imperiously. He pawed at the hem of Armand’s nightshirt.

Armand knelt down to stroke Little Shit behind the ears just so. “Don’t worry. You were still here first. You can take care of another one, can’t you?” He let the kitten down so it could get acquainted with the other two. He straightened back up. Then he favored Jean with a soft, warm smile. “What are you calling this one?”

Jean wore a matching expression as he watched them. “It’s already nipped me once and it looks like a mini jungle cat. Le Tigre.”

Armand took Jean’s hand. “You look exhausted. Come to bed.” He leaned in close to Jean’s ear. “Then in the morning, I’ll let you worship me.”

Jean just groaned and followed.

 


End file.
